


Natural Blue

by ghidrah



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gardens & Gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghidrah/pseuds/ghidrah
Summary: Years after the Institute is destroyed, Rina, Vault 111's Sole Survivor, still struggles living comfortably despite trying to keep busy by helping out the Commonwealth. She finds herself constantly indecisive about what to grow in her garden until a little prodding from her beloved companion helps out.





	Natural Blue

Not many grew accustomed to cold Wasteland winters blanketing the once-bounding earth. Caravans avoided the snowy terrain that tucked away spring as conditions were too dangerous to constantly traverse through, often opting to withhold travelling until a safer season. Sanctuary for the past handful of years had decently managed through the winters despite the harsh conditions, patiently waiting for warmth to return. However, a vast majority of those in the Commonwealth would report seasonal environmental challenges paled in comparison to when the Institute once lurked the lands. Though the weather itself did not diminish in intensity, there was indeed a little more room for peace. No one got accustomed to the winters, but everyone had a little more breathing room for living through them a bit lighter, a bit gentler.

November, December, January, February, March… the colder months meandered by.

Lately, settlers embraced the warming days by abandoning their winter layers and tending to the sprouting crops. Even in a world fraught with decay, there was a sense of nostalgic renewal in the sort of cool mornings only spring wrought. The world felt whole. To some people, though, it sure didn’t feel like that.

Rina walked about Sanctuary’s crop gardens behind the main community house. The plants were growing rather well this season, almost seemingly faster than previous springs. Or, maybe it was the long-gone Institute that fruited a type of life into the world that went missing for so long. Resolving, to some extent, bigger Commonwealth issues definitely brought peace to everyone, wildlife included. She gently held a budding tomato: small, delicate, and growing handsomely.

A familiar face walked by. Preston, the Minutemen’s general, nodded his head and thanked her like he did from week to week for constantly supporting the community she helped fruit and maintain. While upon meeting she expressed discomfort in becoming a leader for a group she didn’t quite know in a world she thought she once knew, she did agree to help encourage growth in a place suffering from a lack of connectivity. That much was obvious upon exiting Vault 111. Her love for community never diminished, not even after 200 years.

After learning about the “new” world, taking on the Institute, and helping out people in the Commonwealth, Rina admittedly needed some time to recuperate before tackling huge tasks again, so, after many people persisting that she should take it easy, she laid a little less low in the Commonwealth. She had no big title, greeted those around her when she saw them, and helped. Just her style. Just like old times. It may not have been lawyering, but she did her best in doing what she could.

Freshly grown plants curled out of the earth. Fulfilling sights, with or without vegetables. She thumbed other plants’ leaves, feeling their soft, wet greens. They felt no hesitation in growing.

But the joy was short lived. Her warmth flashed into guilt as memories of the neighborhood pre-2077 struck like lightning. This place she now lived in was a different sort of home. She never wanted to compare situations, sometimes it just happened. Happened less than years beforehand? Yes. Flashbacks stopping altogether? No and, unfortunately, she feared they never would. How did everything happen so fast while simultaneously switching between feeling far too real and feeling like a fantasy she saw in movies?

One day everything was just gone.

Gone...

Rina tenderly felt another dewy leaf. The sun began to rise. The warm glow shined on the thriving plants.

Caught up in unwarranted thoughts, she walked back to her house, greeting Dogmeat and some others enjoying the spring morning. The thoughts struck again. _Something_ could happen at any time. This second. The next minute. The following hour. Something, anything. She was struck with this permanent sense of never belonging, that things would never stay because of this paranoid insistence due to the life-altering, sudden change of war. War never changes, and it changes everything it touches. It was near impossible to escape constant, unnecessary preparation for nothing. She was drowning.

Ugh! Not this again.

Rina plopped down at the deeper end of her driveway looking at the rising sun finally illuminating the world. Some settlers rose to take over for the night guard duties and others to tend to the gardens. Many said hi while others nodded in hello. No matter the form of communication, the mutual sense of appreciation was never left unnoticed.

The air crisp with a sense of renewal indicated they were finally entering the thick of spring. Soil was tilled, seeds were planted, and hoses were ready for their daily routine of watering. Maintaining a place they felt safe enough to call home beckoned a soft comfort. Sanctuary by itself didn’t compose the entirety of ‘home’, but the people did, too. Other’s joy and feeling safe? She felt warm at the notion despite the tug of the past.

Rina looked behind her at part of the backyard peeking out. Though thriving vegetation filled Sanctuary, she couldn’t say the same applied to her own yard. Others stated it was hers so she should tailor it to her whim; a kind sentiment, but one she couldn’t sit easy with. Her house? She could more so accept that one. But her yard? She groaned, rubbing her temples. Her empty, lifeless, backyard… She couldn’t help but feel she was mildly disappointing the settlers in some way. It was absolutely vacant. How many indecisive years had it been? Five? Give or take a year or two?

She’d spent quite a while musing about what to grow: daikon, potatoes, mikan… Any potential idea was automatically tossed out in the overt caution that there might be something more beneficial or worthwhile. She exhaled, disgruntled. Whatever, garden. You do your own thing.

“Hey now, why the long face? Mole rat caught your foot?”

Rina’s eyes perked at the familiar raspy voice. She looked up at who stood in front of her, hands on his hips, grinning ever-so mischievously. She gave a weak grin. “You’re up early, Deacon.”

“What can I say? Early bird gets the worm. Not that I am bird, nor worm. Nevertheless…” He looked back at the yard, realizing what was in the works. Ah. This again. “Gazing at Big Ol’ Empty?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

“Let’s rendezvous indoors.” He offered her a hand which she took and went inside her home, or rather, their home, though he maintained respecting it had always been hers and her family’s. They sat on the usual couch when needing some alone time be it for quiet solitude, serious discussions, or whatever bonding activity they wanted for themselves away from the world. It was the quiet, secret moments they grew fond of, like so many that occurred during their moonlit travels. “So,” he started, “Big Ol’ Empty?”

“Big Ol’ Empty,” she echoed.

The unfilled plot of land dilemma struck again. “What’s the status report? Thinking about planting veggies? Making a wooden patio? Perhaps even, dare I say, adding a working barbeque grill?”

“I don’t know,” she slunk into the couch, entirely giving up on the ordeal. “I can’t decide.”

“You miraculously swoop into the Commonwealth, traverse the wasteland, find Preston the perfect alternative hat, and yet…”

“I~ can’t~ pick a single thing,” she singsong repeated while Deacon moved his fingers in synchronization.

“We should really think about making rounds ‘round the ‘wealth and performing. Could make a pretty cap or two.”

She grinned. “Right.”

“But really, back to the true star of the show: what’re your current thoughts on Big Ol’ Empty?”

“It’s big. It’s old. It’s empty.”

“Amazing. Tell me more?”

“I… I don’t know. I haven’t thought of anything that’s resonated. Veggies. Fruit. Nothing feels right.”  

“Hm,” he inquisitively drummed his mouth with a couple fingers. “How about you tell me anything?”

She paused. “Anything, huh?”

He replied with a one-sided smile, “Mhm.”

“Well. I can’t ever decide.” Rina rested her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m stuck with this permanent sense that nothing will ever stay, and it’s showing.” Rina pursed her lips, and muttered, “It’s like I’m scared to do anything.”

Deacon gently combed her hair with his fingers.

“I know it’s something that’ll always stay with me, but boy, is it a nuisance.”

“Never does leave you alone, huh? Like some haunting you never asked for.”

“Truly.”

“I’ll do what I can to help out.” He coiled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Although, I can’t do braids. Temporary curls, though? A definite maybe, if I go at it all night.”

She chuckled, “Thank you.” Then a pause. “It feels like I’ve exhausted what could go there. I’ve thought of veggies, fruits, and different recreational things that might be useful.”

“Useful? For who?”

“Everyone.”

“And, whose yard is it?”

She cautiously answered, dreading the answer, “Mine, technically.”

“Are the things you thought of what _you_ want to put there? It doesn’t ‘have’ to be useful.”

“I mean,” she huffed. “Like, deep down, I do want something that’s special there, but it’s like my brain hits a wall. ‘Nope! Something for others! Even though something for yourself would be nice!’”

“Everyone is okay with you doing whatever with it, but I know you know that. Just a friendly reminder from your local self-proclaimed white-shirt fanatic.”

“Yeah… I know you’ve told me this time and time again. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies needed. I know it’s complicated. And I’ll keep reminding you for like, ever. You won’t be able to get rid of me!”

“Oh no! Whatever will I do?” Her cheeks lifted in gratitude. “Thanks.”

Heart floating by some indescribable budding life, he kissed her cheek tenderly. “I should be the one thanking you for your willing effort into the 2288-Deac Situation.”

“Boy, yeah, were _you_ an annoying one.”

“And here we are.” He smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She almost lost track of long they’d been together. Their often event-packed adventures blended into one another. They’d worked through so many things: their at-first strenuous bond, his reluctance in vulnerably breaking out of his shell full of falsifications and over-stepping jokes, her reluctance in moving into the world, and through complete honesty they made a support system helping each other through personal struggles. Their night talks, moonlight treks, and countless journeys together brought them closer, walls eventually melting into an unbreakable foundation they continued to grow from. He blossomed around her. And she reciprocated the natural feeling. How could someone new make her feel at home and nostalgic? And blossoming?

Blossoming…

Oh!

She jumped up from the couch and swirled around, beaming at Deacon. “I know what I want to do. Or at least I’m making myself stick with it!”

Not having seen such a powerful smile from her in quite some time, he too jumped up from the couch, unnecessarily dusting off his hands in preparation. “Let’s get to it then!”

 

xxxxx

 

 “Flowers, huh?” Deacon peeked over Rina’s shoulder as she flipped through an old book showcasing a variety of species, pages crinkling with joy. “Any in particular you want to plant?”

“I like pansies, but I knew some people said they’d replace them too frequently for my taste.”

“Is it normal to replace flowers often? Like vegetables?”

“Er,” she looked up in thought. “It varies. Maybe they didn’t take care of them or they were only in bloom for certain seasons? I don’t know much about flowers.”

“Shining beautifully for a short amount a time. A shame, really. Sounds like some of Tinker Tom’s robot experiments. They work for a few minutes, then BLAM! They stop functioning.”

“It would be nice to have flowers that are in bloom for a while and _not_ blow up like robots.” Rina tapped a photo of multiple colored pansies clustered in separate colors. “These are pansies. Cute, huh?”

“But are they as cute as me?” He posed with hands framing his face only to be lovingly written off by a staccato-esque laugh. He gave up to look closer at the picture. “I’ve literally _never_ seen that in my entire life. Color? In this Wasteland?”

She let out a disgruntled sigh. “Right. We need to be able to find the seeds or flowers.”

“The pansies are a maybe at least, right?”

“I’d prefer something I know would last a while. Like, they might, but maybe I’ll go with something I sort of remember lasting longer. Who knows what’ll happen in this environment?”

“If only we were expert post-war botanists.”

They browsed the pages of the book, Deacon commenting on the pictures while Rina talked about gardens people used to have. An hour breezed by as they shared anecdotes together when they simultaneously paused on a page glowing with promise.

“Oh,” Rina started, “that’s so pretty.”

“Phlox?”

“Apparently. Comes in creeping variety…? Its coverage looks super pretty.” After a brief pause, her shoulders sagged in discontent. “How the hell are we going to find _flowers_ of all things?”

“Can’t say I know any nearby botanists that specialize in pretty flowers. The closest ones I’m thinking of are more medicinal or vegetable oriented.”

Rina closed the book and leaned her wheeled office chair back slightly farther than it should go. She swore she heard Deacon remark “Dangerous!” but right now there were more dire things to worry over. Maybe she would be better off planting something they already had or could easily obtain. It wasn’t worth the time or resources- no! It was worth at least trying. She peered up at Deacon who was now hovering above her head, keeping the back of the chair steady with a knee. She whispered, “Hey.”

He smiled. “Hey.”

“You’re a goob, right?”

“I mean, I certainly wouldn’t call myself one.”

“A goob with connections, knowledge, and tricks up his sleeve.”

“Well, if that’s _your_ perception of a goob…”

“Got any ideas?”

Think, think, think. He lightly rested his elbows either side of her head, cheeks held up by the back of his palms. There certainly weren’t any nearby botanists with the specialties they had in mind, or anyone, for that matter. They could ask scientists and Mr. Handys at the nearby labs and gardens, but even then, he couldn’t imagine the aforementioned being the least bit interested in finding a flower or researching it without extensive bribery or monetary incentive. The last thing he wanted to do was spend a week travelling back and forth between sources to painstakingly find out these people wouldn’t help or would be asking for a favor too much. He didn’t think going to ask them would be worth it unless they were already in the area. And the effort going into trying to find someone who collected flowers? It would be worth it for her, but the chances… he had a bad feeling.

Their immediate surroundings weren’t exactly the most fruitful, either. Most of the diverse plant life died out a long time ago leaving the Wasteland with whatever it could grow through the radiation. Some people fiddled with plant hybrids, but they worked with what they already had rather than intently exploring for old plants. If only there was a Sierra for flowers. At any rate, out of everyone in the Commonwealth, Rina would be best suited for this type of investigation considering the various miscellaneous quests she took upon herself. “This is a shot in the dark, but do you know where you’d find phlox? Or who grew it?”

“Not really. I only knew once neighbor who was dedicated to growing flowers. but, you know, they’re not exactly…”

“Sorry.”

“They’re gone, but talking about them and things they loved feels like I’m paying my respects.” Nostalgia lifted the corners of her mouth. “We had some older neighbors in the cul-de-sac, maybe in their late sixties, who had gardens in their yards. Instead of lawns they had flowers and creeping plants. One of them might’ve been phlox, I can’t quite remember. I just want to say it was out of pure hope.”

Deacon tilted his head in curiosity. “What kinds of colors did they have?”

“Oh, all sorts. The front yard had a bountiful amount of green with the smallest clusters of white flowers. There was also another plant box with flowers that would change by the season. Sometimes they’d be pink, sometimes purple, sometimes a mix of colors. I used to wander over there when I was a kid. At first, I picked a _ton_ flowers! I wanted them all – my dad saw me and got so mad!”

“Rina: The Original Flower-burglar.”

“You sure could call me that back then. I know my dad was mad, but _haha_ * assured me it was normal to make mistakes so long as we apologized and amended them, so we traveled downtown to buy the neighbors some seeds before they got home from wherever they were that day. I wrapped it in some paper and apologized to them. They thought it was pretty cute, but I was so embarrassed. I _still_ feel bad.”

“And thus, from her first good childhood deed, child-Rina swore from then on to become a lawyer to protect the public from flower thieves.”

She chuckled. “That might be stretching it.”

“Where’d you go get the flowers? Downtown?”

Rina bit her lip. “Mmm, it was some shop on the outskirts of Concord, just a bit away from Red Rocket Stop.”

All Deacon did was give her a knowing-one-sided grin as her eyes widened.

Rina stuttered, “S-should we check it out?”

“Oh, maybe. Perhaps. Yes. Totally.” Trying not to laugh out of joy, she swiveled a couple times in her chair before Deacon grabbed its arms to stopping it so it faced him, leaning his forehead forward so it rested against hers. “We’ll find something.”

“Just going there will bring me something itself.”

The two gathered supplies, ate some food, and waited through the day until sunset before departing. They informed a few settlers on guard duty they’d be back sometime into the night.

As with their many other night treks, the moon illuminated the road nearby as Rina and Deacon cautiously walked the grass sidelines. Though the community generally watched over nearby areas, the two felt safer among the grass, the stars, and the managing life bristling underneath the deep, natural blue. They felt safe among the dimmed intimacy of night.

The soft sounds of life they couldn’t see softly resonated with their trekking over pebbles and vegetation. Wet grass compressed with the shape of their shoes. Rina looked up at the stars speckling the depth above. It looked endless.

As they trekked slowly towards Concord, she asked just above a whisper, “Would you want to look down from a star at us?”

Deacon, next to her, replied in a heartbeat, “You know I’m afraid of heights.”

“I guess you’d miss out then,” she stopped momentarily, extending her arm above them, dangling her fingers as if brushing a running stream of water. “Have you ever seen pictures from space? I can’t imagine what it’s like to experience it.”

“I’ve only come across a handful. It makes us seem so small.”

“So small. And so much happens here.”

“A lot of anguish and confusion, huh?”

“Yeah…” Her voice dropped. “If only we could help everyone.”

“You’ve helped out majorly around here. Look around.” He motioned at the Red Rocket behind them before trekking onwards towards downtown Concord. “All these people are doing better. That’s awesome.”

“But when will it feel like I’m doing enough?”

“Honestly? Maybe never.”

Silence.

He continued, “That dissatisfaction, though, that’s a good enough sign, I’ll tell you that. There are people out there who only care about doing shitty things, believe me, I’d know. And you’ve had the unfortunate service of learning that, too. We’re doing our best here and definitely helping out.”

“I know I’m doing things, I’m aware of the effect of my actions, how it’s benefiting people, so why can’t I feel it? Why do I feel so stuck?”

The notion was all too familiar for himself, too. He knew. She knew. She knew he knew. He’d seen her viciously wake up from nightmares, task herself endlessly… he’d listened to her pry open her heart to confront the devastation of a withering garden, quietly wishing for tending she felt too vulnerable to confront. “Mind if I chime in with my anecdotes?”

“You know I’ll never mind them.”

“I never feel like I’m getting somewhere. I know I’m helping out, but with the never-ending consequences of the past I wasn’t here for wreaking havoc on land and people? Feels almost claustrophobic in terms of, like, if anything we do even matters.”

“And we still fight on.” She sighed. “Life, huh?”

“Life.”

“Thanks, Deacon.”

Each “thanks” manifested the weight of every memory with her in his heart, in his arms, in his feet, holding him steady. She was willing to look at his abandoned garden, helping him water it, cultivate it, and instead of ignoring it, putting up with his initial shit. He’d been too afraid to say a simple “thank you” after countless moments together because it felt like it was simultaneously too much and too little, too insecure, too vulnerable. What he’d give to go back to every moment; he felt selfish for thinking about himself with every thanks she gave.

Replying with what he could, he rubbed her back and assured her, “Thank _you_.” She understood every emotion and repeating thought in those words, feeling a little less unstuck than before.

Thinking about where they were heading, excitement bubbled in her about possibly finding some flowers for their, or rather, _her_ yard.

The moon shone light through cracks of Concord’s battered buildings. It, too, witnessed much of the world’s turmoil, but continued to appear every night. They admired it for its dutiful light.

“We near the store, you think? I can’t say I’m too familiar with these alleyways in Concord.”

“Just about. I remember it being yellow, though it’s probably faded by now and it’s hard to tell without the sun around.” The two ended up in a dim alleyway sheltered by a once-charming overhang shared between an array of buildings. Holding up her Pipboy to various building fronts while Deacon used his lighter, the two exhausted almost the entire alleyway trying to locate their destination before ending up at the same building front together.

Deacon scratched his head, “You were pretty sure it was in this section?”

“Pretty sure.” Rina scanned around them, making sure they didn’t miss anything. This had to be the right spot. Her family drove down, parked, walked over here, and opened the door to the…

Rina looked down at the knob noticing its shape similar to lotuses. She pestered Deacon’s shoulder with insistent tapping while pointing at the doorknob - there’s no way this wasn’t it. Both nodding affirmingly, she creaked open the door and raised her wrist, shining the Pipboy into the incredibly small shop. In abandoned buildings’ fashions, the floor was covered in dirt, scraps, and toppled furniture. Rina tiptoed around the small shop checking for traps while Deacon stood guard outside the shop. Settlers and acquaintances were patrolling the area, but it never hurt to keep an eye out.

Deacon shut the door once hearing from Rina the area was trap free. Time for investigating. Upon just a glance, the chances for finding seeds or anything flower related weren’t looking so hot. Peeking under toppled fixtures didn’t seem to help, either. He looked over at his inquisitive partner, bent over, some distinctive _clinks_ and _clanks_ coming from her direction.

“Find anything, Fixer?” Peeking around her shoulder, he noticed she was fast at work with a rather different looking safe. “Something… ‘pick’ your interest?”

“If I had a cap for every time I’ve heard you say that...” she grunted, her fingers desperately trying to pry the thing apart after annoyingly shoving a bobby in in her pocket. The device resembled a rounded turquoise cube dirtied by grime and time. “Puns aside, do you know what this is?”

Puffing his chest, he mischievously grinned as he squatted next to her. “Oh Fixer my dear, you still have so much to learn. What we have here is a,” he paused, looking at the hefty storage container wedged slyly in the lower part of a cabinet. His pause continued as he drummed his knee, “it’s, well, a, uh…”

“Uh-huh?” He heard her stifle a snort as he felt the mystery item’s edges.

It gave a sense of familiarity. Still operating with a soft purr and a small strip of blue, it faintly reminded him of a particular blue soda found throughout the country. Definitely high-tech, _definitely_ held something the owners cared about enough to preserve. “Seems like Nuka tech. No terminals around?”

“None that I saw, but here’s a notebook I found.” Rina handed him an aged composition journal. Deacon tugged her sleeve, motioning for her to attempt what looked like to be a safe again while he thumbed through the store’s old notes. As he skimmed through entries about the store’s opening, history with the town, and various other anecdotes, he eventually reached a page regarding the owners’ concern about the ongoing wars and curiosity in rising technology.

Rina, squatting next to the cube, frowned as she fisted yet another bobby pin back in her pocket. She had desperately resorted to jamming the chunk of metal in the device’s cracks to no avail. There was absolutely no sign of a typical lock. Every side was smooth without any type of pick-able entryway, minus a keypad with glowing buttons she didn’t know how to remove properly without possibly screwing it up. “Bad news on this end. Anything useful in the store notes?”

“As a matter of fact!” He finished reading a page before tilting his head down, eyes peeking above his glasses at Rina.

She stared at him for a second. She knew that look. That pause. “No way.”

“I’ll get to the fun news in a second, but…” He scooted next to her and pointed to aging pictures in the journal. “A lot of the text is fading away, but the pictures are from way back when. Not the most saturated like they used to be, but hey, pretty cool, right?”

The photos were dismally discolored, but retained a vividness the Wasteland hadn’t seen in centuries. There were pictures before Rina’s time showing the store’s construction, the owners hard at work painting, and eventually opening up shop. Every page was almost too much. There was such a variety of memories that weren’t theirs, but felt like a home they’d long forgotten. They browsed pictures of flowers at the shop, trees in various parts of Boston, customers showing off their gardens, and, to both of their surprise, a picture of one of the shop owners with someone in a lab coat handing them the very container they couldn’t open.

She tapped her finger on the current page then cleared her throat. “‘Had a regular customer who offered a deal with us. Knew we were worried about the state of the world. He works for a branch of Nuka Cola’s technology department. Asked if we’d be interested in preservation technology.’”

“Sounds like we’re getting close.” Deacon noted the entry was dated a few days before the bombs fell. “What a day to write, too. You think they had time to make sure the safe thing worked?”

“Sure hope so.”  Most of the words were impossible to make out after that except for a sequence of numbers on the final page. Oh! “The safe had a number pad. This _has_ to belong to it.”

“If it’s not, I’m suing the past.”

Before getting up, the two lingered among silence for some time. She told Deacon small stories about parts of the photos she recognized while he bombarded her with curiosity. It was a common exchange they grew to love. He nodded towards the safe. “Time to check out what goodies are in there.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Rina tapped the buttons matching the sequence in the journal.

_Beep!_

_Clink!_

“Yes!” Rina cheered while the safe let out cool air. Inside, there were a couple of small bags.

Deacon felt one of the bags. Small bead-like objects clustered as he tenderly squeezed it. “These _have_ to be seeds.”

“I wonder what kind.” Rina opened one of the pouches. Yes, seeds indeed!

“Seeds without names, that’s a bit exciting. It could be anything from a rose to a killer stinky flower!”

“I’m sure it’s definitely not the latter, but who knows at this rate. I’m surprised this safe thing is still up and running.”

“Must have a mad crazy battery in it. But maybe it doesn’t use as much since it’s smaller. I’m no scientist, though.” Deacon placed his pouch of seeds back inside the safe with Rina’s. “Should we take it, too? Seems valuable.”

“Yeah, lets. Sturges might be able to figure something out about it for our benefit.” Surprisingly, the safe pulled out of its small cubby with ease. No strings, no chords. It was heavier than she thought, but thankfully Sanctuary was close.

“Got it?”

“You know me, strongest person in this here Commonwealth.”

Deacon waved his arm in the air, and looked to the stars above the store upon exiting. “Fixer, defeater of evil buff assholes, bringer of peace and safes.”

“‘Defeater of evil buff assholes’? What rumors are you spreading?”

Deacon pursed his lips while letting out a weak, airy whistle. “Oh, nothin’.”

“I’m keeping my eye on you.” She grinned, then remembered the journal they left inside the store. “Do you think we should grab the notebook?”

“I think you should tell me what you think.”

“Bring it with us.”

“Amazing, wonderful, totally _exactly_ what I was thinking.”

“Can you get it and I’ll keep holding the safe?”

“The incredibly heavy, muscle-wrenching book? I’m no defeater of evil buff assholes, but I’m pretty sure I got it.”

“Again, with that!”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed her shoulder. “You ready to head back?”

“Definitely.”

Their walk back was quick, eventless, and teeming with anticipation. The two played guessing games of what kind of seeds would be in the bag. Deacon relied on incredulous non-existent plants claiming “anything is possible” while Rina only hoped for phlox or some sort of flower. With their limited expertise, they couldn’t tell from the seeds alone.

Upon entering Sanctuary, they greeted the usual smaller group of settlers performing miscellaneous night chores and keeping watch. Rina firmly grasped the safe, bubbling with excitement. From the piqued looks around her and a small, approving smile from a group of visiting companions, some sense of good was in the air.

They wasted no time in setting it down in Rina’s driveway. Miraculously, it still purred with power.

“That was easier than expected.”

“All the sticky work was just finding it. Happy birthday to us.” Deacon set down the book inside before returning to Rina with a couple shovels, fertilizer, and pouches of nutrients he gathered from one of the storage sheds. “Ready? Or should we put this aside for tomorrow?”

“We’re on a roll; let’s do it all now!”

They set to her backyard preparing the soil, setting out fertilizer, assessing and spontaneously rearranging what little there was in the backyard, and digging up well-spaced out holes, unsure how big the mysterious seeds would grow. Shoveling took more energy than they thought, and the two sat down looking over the moonlit yard after some hours of work. The sun had yet to peep, but the way the moon wandered to the lower ends of the earth suggested it was near time.

At an overview it may have seemed they didn’t do a lot, but they knew it was a project many, many years in the works.

Deacon deeply read the yard’s new bumps and freshly textured ground. New soil provided a safe home for the seeds, nutrients would help out, and there was a strange sense of familiarity with the freshly tended garden even though it was very new in their lives. Rina shared the sentiment too, feeling it in every breath she took.

“Here ya go.” Deacon nudged a watering can brimming with water towards her. He had found it years ago during an outing by himself. They both looked down at it, then at each other.She took the watering can and generously watered each seed pile, making sure the soil soaked up enough so it wasn’t too little or too much. There had to be a balance in caring.

Rina hovered over the last pile of seeds and looked at the rest of the small garden. The sun began to rise.

The watered soil shone a deep brown once the sunlight hit, a tone she wasn’t used to seeing in her yard for quite some time.

Deacon walked over by her side, looking around with her. Though small, it felt expansive and filled with an exciting mystery.

Rina started, “Don’t make fun of me, but…”

“Oh, you know I can’t obey that request.”

“Shush.” She playfully pushed him before continuing. “You think people would treat each other differently if they could see the world like this?”

“From afar?”

“Seeing it as a whole, a thriving _thing_.”

“I would’ve said no at some point in my life.”

“Do you ever hope?”

“Every day now since you climbed out of that vault.”

 “Now isn’t that cheesy.”

“Hey now, I’m not the one who started this conversation with a grand, existential question.”

She grinned, gazing up at him. “As if you don’t do that all the time when we’re out there.”

“Touché.”

“...thanks, Deacon.”

“Thank _you_.”

“Even with shit still happening, I know we can make a difference. We can only keep trying.”

“And sometimes that means taking a break.” Deacon looked at the hills, the trees, the settlement, and the bounding sky. What would it have been like without hope? Without trying? Without her? Without a little help? And optimism? The scenery may have materially stayed the same, but he knew his experiences changed his viewing for the better.

He patted her back a couple times. “I gotta get shuteye then write some reports. See you inside for a nap.”

After he wandered in, Rina noticed a lone seed left on the driveaway. She grabbed it, digging a hole for it in the center of the yard.

She smiled as she covered the last seed’s home in the dirt with some soil and watered it. Satisfied, she walked back into the house, ready for a long-awaited nap. Whether or not the plants would grow, it mattered little to her. It was time for some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> *haha = mom in Japanese
> 
> The title Natural Blue is a song by Julie Byrne.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. If you liked it please kudos and leave a comment, even if it's small - they mean a lot to me to read!


End file.
